


The Beast Within the Walls

by thisnthat



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisnthat/pseuds/thisnthat
Summary: In need of new material to boost your readership for a dying cryptid news site, you decide it's time to investigate for yourself just what happened in the walls of the infamous Heelshire Mansion.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 259





	The Beast Within the Walls

**Author's Note:**

> nice to see this fandom is back despite how bad the sequel was. here's some porn, have fun.

Lightning illuminates the foyer, the eyes of dozens of beasts gleaming from their taxidermy pedestals for a moment before fading into the night once more. You shiver as the thunder catches up, resembling the low groans of your lover.

A year prior, stories began popping up on the internet warning of a beast lurking within the walls of Heelshire Manor. The long abandoned mansion, shrouded in acres of woodland, was rumored to house all manner of supernatural beings. The ghosts of a boy, Brahms, burned alive and his parents who drowned themselves decades later, wracked with guilt. A little girl roaming the woods seeking the killer who bashed her skull in. The entity that plucked the first chord, setting these events in motion.

But one couple escaped the madness, though arguably they went mad in their own right.

“Not a ghost,” she held your wrist like a vice, “a man. A beast of a man. Living in the walls like vermin.”

The body of her ex-boyfriend was never found. The police couldn’t even prove he had ever been there at all, with only airline records showing he had arrived in the country, but nothing more.

In need of new material to boost your readership for a dying cryptid news site, you decided it was time to investigate for yourself just what was going on in the walls of this infamous mansion.

As the sun sets you push through the rusty gates, once proudly displaying the Heelshire crest, now defaced and broken. Trudging up the muddy road as rain your weather app did not predict pours down you see the towers of the Manor above the treeline. It won’t be long now, soon night will come and your chance to meet these fabled ghosts will come. Or at least a chance to pretend you did.

The mansion looms before you now, as if it burst through the core of the Earth from hell itself fully formed. Shattered windows like eyes watching your every move, old timber creaking in time to your shaky breaths. Now’s your time to shine.

Instinctively you knock on the doors. Despite the Manor being long abandoned, the shut doors demand respect. The politeness of a knock, awakening their long slumbering master.

A thud from inside, the sound of a lock turning, and the door creaks open at your touch. Darkness within somehow stronger than the nightfall around you, as if it reaches out to remove the light of its own accord. Another step and your inside.

Ready or not, the hunt begins.

You search for something to prop the door open, a small comfort as you feel the cold enter through your skin, chilling you to the bone. A broken side table does the trick. You continue onward into the dark.

Feeling along the wall with one hand and a flashlight in the other, you make your way into a dining room. As you tiptoe around broken furniture and smashed dishes your flashlight hits a strange object, gleaming through the dust. A scream hitches in your throat, stopped by the realization it is not the face of a person, but the ceramic face of a doll.

Upon closer inspection you learn the doll has been shattered and repaired, clumped together, no doubt, by the child who broke it in the first place. Allowing yourself a moment to breathe, you decide this toy has been the source of all the rumors. You can certainly concoct a whole slew of stories about it.

Moving to leave you hear a loud thump from somewhere else in the mansion. You hold your breath, shutting off your flashlight and dropping to the floor to hide. What sounds like footsteps padding along dilapidated wood rounds the corner, but you see no one there.

A figure emerges from the wall, or what you could have sworn was the wall a moment ago. The figure looks as if it’s searching, sniffing the air before it turns to face you. It crawls forth completely, looming above you now with a face not unlike the doll you just saw.

“Hello,” a child-like voice emanates from it.

Eyes straining out of your skull with fright, you can only manage a soft cry.

“Would you like to play with me?” it asks.

You shake your head no, too terrified to speak.

It tilts its head to the side.

“Then why are you here?” it asks.

You feel your feet lifting you, moving you backwards away from the figure. It steps forward.

“Curious, that’s all,” you stammer.

Your eyes adjusting to the dark, you notice the figure is definitely in the shape of a man. A very tall man. And you smell a masculine scent: musk, sweat, cured wood. Blood?

“Brahms?” you ask, voice cracking.

Brahms moves too quickly now, pinning you to the wall. His hand reaches for yours. You gasp at his touch, surprisingly gentle and warm despite the calloused fingers. Slowly this time, he guides your hand to his crotch. Eyes wide, you feel the girth of his erection, taut against his cotton sweats.

“Satisfied?” A fully adult voice asks, breathy yet gravelly, out of practice.

You bite your lip. Truthfully, you expected to find nothing more than a sad old mansion haunted only by the memories of the unfortunate family that once inhabited it. The fear upon finding more turned to adrenaline as you feel him rut against your hip. The beast within the walls.

“No,” you gulp.

“Then,” he pauses, breathing in your scent, “You do want to play with me?”

~

Boots abandoned in the dining room you run. A resounding voice shakes within the walls, counting down until the game begins. Rain pounds against the roof, slipping through cracks in the seams and windows, rushing wind freezing to the touch. But the goosebumps on your skin rise from the thrill of something new. Something unbound within you, within the Manor.

You ran to explore, to find your bearings in the labyrinth of rooms and hidden compartments. The stories piece themselves together as you search, the man living in the walls, the burned child, the murders. It dawns on you that hiding from him may be entirely impossible. But will getting to the front door be any easier?

_If I catch you, you must stay with me. Forever. But if you can hide until dawn, or escape through those front doors, then you may do as you wish. Stay or go, I will not stop you._

“One!” Brahms yells, then silence.

The rain is your only companion in the dark as you feel the hair rise along your neck. He may be stronger, taller, and better adept for this playing field, but you’re certain you can outrun him. Outsmart him.

You Listen closely for the sound of footsteps, of breathing, anything. Then you see it. A door opening from within the closet. The figure silently moving through. Not a hint of a sound as he stalks into the room. He scans briefly before moving to leave, then stops in the doorway. The sound of him breathing deep, smelling you near. His head snaps toward your hiding spot, but surely it must be too dark for him to see you.

He pauses a moment, then turns away, exiting the room. You risk a loud breath after holding it in for so long. He missed you this time, but you know he’ll be back. If he almost caught you then, surely it will be the first place he returns to when he can’t find you anywhere else.

Now is as good a time as any to make your escape. Peeking out the door down the long hallways you see no movement. Carefully, quietly, you sneak to the stairwell, crawling along the side of the banisters. The stairs from the foyer to the door are the most open area in the house. You listen close; straining so hard you can hear the blood in your veins. But not him.

You run down the steps, silent as possible. Lightning illuminates the foyer. You shiver at as the thunder catches up. Lifting your eyes at the foot of the stairs you see him. You swear you see him, looming in the dark by the door you propped open. White mask glinting in the moonlight, dark curls flowing around it like a mane. With hardly a move the door slams shut, the figure stepping into the light.

You turn and bolt up the stairs. He knew. He knew you were there in the room. But he wanted the chase. Wanted you to tire out, for your blood to run hotter. For you to struggle for air until all you could think of was giving in, of letting him keep you. He needed the hunt.

A banister breaks under the weight of your hand trying to pull yourself up faster. Falling face first onto the steps. You hear him now. Deeper than the thunder. You struggle to your feet, taking a staggering step forward until a strong arm wraps around your torso, pulling you into the air and against his chest.

“Now for the real fun,” he says, hot breath on your neck, filtering out from under his cold mask pressed against you.

You try to wriggle free, to kick his legs out, to push yourself up and out of his arms. All to no avail. In your attempts to escape his grasp, you felt his bulge harden, heat rising in your stomach. Rather than a cry for help you moan in excitement. You swear you hear a faint chuckle as he pushes a hidden door against the wall open, carrying you inside.

A new darkness covers your eyes until you emerge through the walls again, into an old bedroom lit by the flicker of candles and moonlight. It is perhaps the only well kept room in the entire house. He throws you onto the bed face down, climbing on top of you.

You struggle underneath his crushing weight, a rough bite on your shoulder warning against it.

“No weapons?” he purrs, “Did you want to be caught?”

A moment of softness. You throw your back against him, lifting him off you. A yelp of surprise at your sudden movement, enough time to grab the lamp off the nightstand. Instead you find yourself pinning him under your thighs, hands weighing heavily down on his shoulders. His throbbing erection grinding underneath you, daring for more.  
Eyes wide behind the mask, you can’t tell if his surprise is in anger or excitement.

Raspy breaths accompanying the rise and fall of his massive chest. He waits. With achingly slow precision you drag your still clothed mound across his erection. A promise, if he behaves. You release his shoulders, placing your hands on either side of his mask. His breath catches, body stiffening against your touch, but he allows you this one kindness.

You set the mask on the nightstand with care; it looked to have already been shattered once. The candlelight dances across his face, burns running all the way down the right side of his face and on to his neck, various other scars cutting along his plush lips and under his dark beard. Bright green eyes watch your face, anticipating your reaction. Your fingertips stroke the burned side of his face with gentleness, like petting a kitten for the first time. His eyes close, face leaning in to your touch. The rumble in his chest reminding you he’s a bit more dangerous than a kitten. Instinctively you run your hand down his neck, continuing along his hirsute chest.

He grinds against you harder now, impatient with your pawing. Not wanting to lose control of the situation, you obey. You tug at his shirt and he listens, sitting up enough to help you pull it off him. He growls when your eyes fall on the scar marring his stomach, only slightly covered by his coarse body hair. You remove your shirt, hoping to soothe his anxiety, a shared act of vulnerability. More he demands, grabbing your breasts through your bra. You snap it off, tossing it to the side to let yourself enjoy his rough hands enveloping you, nipples hardening as he pinches and prods.

The hunger in his movements grows, hands grazing along your body, exploring every inch of soft flesh, hips grinding into you painfully, threatening to topple you to the bed once more. A pleading in his eyes you can’t ignore any longer.

“Let’s play,” you croon.

Without hesitation he grabs you, shoving you down into the mattress while he fights with his pants. You can’t help laughing at his eagerness, working to remove the rest of your clothes as well.

Your laughter stops abruptly at the sight of his cock pulled free from his sweats. For a moment your fear overtakes your arousal, his uncut behemoth resting against your stomach, a too real look at how much his size will damage your insides. But his fingers gliding along your already dripping wet cunt reminds you it will be well worth the aftermath.

He teases a large finger inside you, eliciting a surprised moan at his sudden intrusion. Your walls clench painfully around him, begging him to allow you even a moment to adjust. A smile stretches across his face. Leaning in he kisses your neck, hot breath matching the heat rising inside you. Slowly he removes his finger, lifting it to your mouth. He drags it across your lips, insisting you taste yourself. You open your mouth, letting him trace his finger along your tongue. Pleased at your willingness to play along he kisses you roughly, his tongue diving into your mouth. A deep moan resonates from him. His impatience clawing at him to act.

The kiss ends too soon, you can’t help a groan for more. But he silences your pleas as quick as you start, moving down to your slickness and pushing your legs apart with rough hands.

You cry out in surprise, his face buried between your thighs as he goes to work, devouring every inch of you with the ferocity of a starving animal. His strong jaw moving his warm tongue along your folds, tasting every pleasure you have to offer. Your hands grip his dark curls, holding on for dear life as his tongue thrusts into you then circles around your clit.

Cries of pleasure fill the Manor, louder than the storm outside. You can feel him smile against you, appreciating how loudly you moan for him, letting him noisily continue his feast. He moans along with you, enjoying your taste and the way you let him know how desperately you want him. Knowing you can be as loud as you want, no one else around to hear you beg for more, unravels any sense of decency you had before. Only the man pinning you down can hear you, sucking along your clit and folds until you scream, gushing forth an orgasm that only ignites a deeper flame within.

Heavy-lidded eyes lift to watch you, his soaked jaw glistening in the moonlight. He’s waiting for something, but your head spins with ecstasy so fast you can barely keep from fainting. It takes all your strength, but you manage to run your fingers through his hair, your best attempt at showing thanks with a gentle pet of his head.

That seems to work. He lulls into your hand for a moment before sitting up. Sloppy kisses along your neck as he pulls you flush against him, your legs wrapped around his hips. Rearing back he waits, watching you helplessly buck your hips against him, breathy pants begging for more. His cock twitches with want, gliding along your slick folds to prepare himself to rip into you.

“Have I been good?” he asks, his deep voice causing you to squirm all the more.

“Yes,” you cry.

“Do you love me?”

The fire inside you begging to be released silences all other thoughts in your mind. His heat pressed against you, the need to be filled by him, to feel his strength as he has his way with you. You can’t wait for him any longer. You throw your arms around his back, nails dragging down his skin to entice his fury.

“I love you, Brahms, please,” you whimper, “I need you.”

He relishes in the pain mixed with your words of adoration. He guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slowly to the sound of you crying out in pain. His girth far exceeds any man you’ve been with before, splaying you before him like a rabbit caught in a trap. You feel your nails draw blood beneath them, gripping his skin as he continues forcing his way inside, walls clenching around him, desperately trying to impede his progress. He stills, cock buried fully within you. Shaky breaths escape him, his hands forcing your hips against him harder.

“I love you,” he chokes.

Before you can respond he drags his cock out, slamming back in full force. The relief of his exit ripped away with excruciating speed. The sound of screams mix with the storm, skin slapping against skin as he thrusts into you with renewed ferocity. Tears burn at your eyes, spilling over as you roll your hips in time with his thrusts. The agony melts into ecstasy as you feel yourself mold to the shape of his cock, able to take each inch with smooth pleasure.

The heat sparks within you, igniting across your skin as you feel your orgasm building. Blood drenched fingers sliding to his hips, wanting to feel every muscle as he drives himself deeper inside you. Your cries slip into wracked moans, begging for release.

He pulls out, a powerful arm wrapping under your lower back to flip you onto your stomach then forcing you up. His hungry eyes drink in the full view of your soaking cunt, back arched in preparation for his next assault. He lines himself up; one arm wrapped under your waist, cradling you, with his other hand squeezing your ass. You feel his tip slide along your folds, teasing.

All your energy is spent holding yourself up, easing the pain into pleasure. Without words you throw your ass into him, hoping he’ll understand. A cruel smile pulls at his lips, removing his hand to bring it down hard, spanking your ass with a force that nearly buckles your legs. A choked yelp rips from your throat, caught halfway as he slams into you once again.

The new position causes him to drag deliciously across all the right grooves within you. Stars dance across the sides of your dimming vision, heat rising as you feel your orgasm edging closer. Your needy whimpers push him over the edge, howling as he picks up the pace, carrying you both into euphoria. Walls clenching tight around his throbbing cock, your orgasm lighting fire to your skin as he stills, cum coating your insides until it fills you, dripping past his cock to line your lips.

You collapse in his arm, letting him tenderly lower you to the mattress, refusing to pull out. He lies on top of you, coarse chest hair tickling along your sensitive skin, both sticky with sweat. He radiates a warmth you’d enjoy any other time, if not already burning from the exertion of passion. You grumble beneath him, trying to twist him off your back. With a deep sigh he rolls off, pulling you into his arms. He hisses at the sting of his raw back pressing against the sheets, still bloody from your grasping hands. You snuggle in closer, mumbling an apology before drifting into a deep slumber. He runs his fingers through your hair, enjoying the feel of you next to him, lightly kissing the top of your head.

“Mine,” he whispers, joining you in some much needed rest.


End file.
